Book Review. When Childhood Love Is Conditional.

'The House of My Mother' by Shari Franke

I originally planned to share my thoughts on this book as an Instagram post, but very quickly realised that it simply wasn’t enough. This case, this book, and the emotions and professional reflections it brought up for me do not fit into a few slides or a caption. Some topics ask for space, nuance, and depth — and this is one of them.

The House of My Mother is not an easy read, but it is an important one. It explores the world of what I imagine “dance mums” in America can be— perfectionistic parents with impossibly high expectations, and a striking lack of emotional regulation. As we already know from Ruby’s case, children in these systems are often used as extensions of the parent, tools for achievement, validation, or control, rather than seen as individuals with emotional needs of their own.

What struck me most is how clearly the book illustrates a cycle of emotional abuse — one that didn’t begin with Ruby, but may well have been passed down through generations. This is how trauma often works: unexamined, unnamed, and repeated. Things didn’t take a wrong turn because this family was uniquely “bad” or extreme. Families like this exist everywhere. In fact, they are far more common than many people realise.

In my own clinical practice, clients frequently speak about emotionally immature parents — parents who lacked empathy, emotional intelligence, or the capacity to self-reflect. Many describe childhoods shaped by conditional love, chronic disappointment, and the sense that they had to earn care by being good, quiet, successful, or useful. Reading this book, I was reminded again how normalised these dynamics can be, and how long their impact lasts.

One passage in particular stayed with me. One passage that really stayed with me: A 7-year-old daughter asks, "will you bring me silk pajamas, too, when I have a baby?"  "Absolutely!" Ruby (the mother) said. "When you have a baby, that's when we can be friends" In that instant, everything clicked into place. Ruby and I couldn't be a real friends until I was a woman with a husband and a family of my own. Until I was her equal. Just as Ruby had to become a wife and mother to truly earn her mother's respect. I would have to wait to be loved."

Love is postponed. Equality is conditional. Childhood is something to endure, not be nurtured through. In that moment, the child understands she must wait to be loved.

The book also speaks about fawning — a trauma response that is still often misunderstood or overlooked. Fawning is an unconscious people-pleasing pattern, developed to secure safety and avoid conflict. It can look like extreme compliance, self-erasure, and chronic prioritising of others’ needs. In emotionally unsafe environments, submissiveness becomes survival.

There is also discussion of narcissistic personality disorder, a term that has become a buzzword in recent years. It’s important to say that this is a serious clinical diagnosis, not a casual descriptor for difficult behaviour. From what I’ve read and observed, Ruby may meet the criteria — but not every emotionally harmful parent has a personality disorder. Many are emotionally immature, poorly regulated, and lacking empathy. That distinction matters, especially when we talk about healing and accountability.

One area that deserves particular attention is the role of unqualified therapists and so-called “coaches”. The coach involved in this family had lost her psychotherapy licence and continued working under the title of “coach”, exploiting the fact that this role is largely unregulated. She took a single CBT technique — something I typically teach clients within one or two sessions, which is called recognising Unhelpful Thinking Styles or Cognitive Distortions — rebranded it as “The Truth”, and fundamentally distorted its meaning.

One of the first things I teach clients is that thoughts are not who we are. Thoughts can be random, fleeting, shaped by culture, beliefs, trauma, and experience. This coach did the opposite: she taught people that they were their thoughts. That idea is profoundly dangerous. It creates shame, fear, and dependency, and gives the person in power enormous control — dynamics that closely resemble those seen in cult leadership. It is deeply unsettling to read that this was allowed to happen.

This is why I needed to write this here, rather than on Instagram. This book is not just a memoir of a child’s suffering; it opens up conversations about trauma, emotional abuse, dysfunctional family systems, and the very real harm caused by unregulated mental health “support”. My hope is that talking about these topics helps normalise experiences that many people carry quietly, often without language for them.

I will absolutely be recommending this book to some of my clients — not because it is comfortable, but because it is validating, illuminating, and necessary.